[Luckily for Sayori, he can't see the way her fists tighten in her pockets at it feels fake. Of course it does. She is fake. An act upon an act, a programmed smile pasted over a sad backstory, loaded into a character file with the simple click of a mouse.
Her gaze falls, her head bowing slightly as she regards the bottom of the mirror's frame. He seems pleased, but she can't really parse why. He's hard to read even when she's not all caught up in her own head.
Surely he hasn't figured it out, right?
She laughs in a small, wry breath, her instinctual defense mechanism for processing ugly feelings. There's very little evident upset in her words, which is jarring against the actual content of them.] Yeah, and if you hadn't taught me even though I'm not useful for anything.
no subject
Her gaze falls, her head bowing slightly as she regards the bottom of the mirror's frame. He seems pleased, but she can't really parse why. He's hard to read even when she's not all caught up in her own head.
Surely he hasn't figured it out, right?
She laughs in a small, wry breath, her instinctual defense mechanism for processing ugly feelings. There's very little evident upset in her words, which is jarring against the actual content of them.] Yeah, and if you hadn't taught me even though I'm not useful for anything.